“There’s not a lot to see,” Kalari commented dryly.
“We must return below deck,” Oma said gruffly.
Azara noticed the reluctance on the old woman’s face. Oma had been as moved as she by the wind and sea.
Rajak took Azara’s hand and bowed slightly.
“Will you join me again for supper in my cabin, princess?”
Her women seemed to sense the emotions between them for they fell silent, their eyes sharply attuned to the scene before them.
“Thank you for asking, Captain,” she replied formally, knowing supper wasn’t what either of them wanted. “Oma and I will be there.”
Oma’s face softened with relief. Being responsible for a headstrong princess must be a thankless job, Azara surmised.
Rajak bowed to all the ladies and Kalari led them back to the stairs that would take them to their cabin. Just before she descended, Azara turned back to Rajak.
“Can you tell me where you’re taking us, Captain?” she asked lightly, although the information was highly important. “I should like to know to which desert island I’m being exiled.”
“Not so deserted, princess,” Rajak replied. “We’re going to Madagascar.”
Azara gasped. “I’ve heard of that place. Is it safe?”
“For me and all who are with me. I have a palace there, not so grand as you’re used to, but you and your women will be comfortable and safe.”
“Will you not consider returning me to my father?” she asked for some of her women still lingered, Hestia among them. “I’m certain my father would pay a large ransom for my return.”
Rajak’s eyes flickered with some emotion, anger or disappointment, she wasn’t certain, but now he drew himself up.
“No ransom has been demanded for you, princess,” he said stiffly, “nor will there be.”
Azara bit her tongue to keep from demanding why he’d taken this stand. She had no wish to discuss it further in front of her maids. Instead, she descended the stairs and found Hestia had placed herself next to her, the woman’s glance knowing, her smile insinuating.
“Do not press so closely,” Azara snapped and hurried to her cabin. Now that she was well away from Rajak and his wicked gaze, perhaps she could think more clearly. She must plan an escape.
She sent her servants away, even Oma, and paced her room, unable to form a plan. She knew she was too distracted by Rajak and the night they’d spent together. When, at last, she threw up her hands in despair, she heard a sound from the entrance. Hestia stood watching her.
“How long have you been there? How dare you spy on me?”
“I wasn’t spying, princess,” Hestia answered without one whit of concern at the accusation. “You are troubled and I thought to help you, if I may?”
“How can you help me?” Azara answer scornfully. Her dislike of the woman grew by the day. “You are merely a servant, a spy sent by my father.”
“As you say, Your Highness.” Hestia bowed slightly, her hands held palms together.
Azara wasn’t fooled. Hestia would never be meek. Her nature was to scheme and try to get the better of those around her. That was why Hasna had sent her away. A curse formed on Azara’s lips for the woman who had taught her so much. Now as she glared at the bold serving woman, she thought of how Hasna might handle such a situation. Obviously, she would use Hestia’s talents to her own benefit.
“What have you in mind?” Azara said aloud.
Hestia smiled, unperturbed by her mistress’ imperious tone.
“I have heard much of this island. It is a place where the pirates gather to sell their stolen goods and to send emissaries to ransom those they’ve kidnapped, so they have access to the outside world. We could get a message to your father or to the shah that you’re being kept there against your will.”
“How could you get a message out?” Azara asked skeptically. Still, her heartbeat increased as she wondered if this might, indeed, be a way. “You know no one and you have nothing to bargain with.”
“I have many things to use as barter for a favor,” Hestia replied, swishing her skirts.
Her grin was bright and bold without any hint of shame at what she contemplated. For a moment, Azara almost envied her the freedom she enjoyed. No inhibitions, no customs to follow on pain of death. Women like Hestia were always protected for the valuable service they provided. At Azara’s hesitation, the serving woman assumed a somber, yet wily expression.
“Perhaps Your Highness doesn’t wish to be rescued. The prince is very handsome,” she replied softly.
Azara jerked her head up and scowled at the impertinent woman.
“Of course I wish it,” she replied harshly. “Mind your tongue or I’ll have you whipped.”
Hestia merely bent her head, and Azara knew she hid yet another smile.
“When we are home again, I will tell my father of your disrespect and have you whipped to within an inch of your life. In the meantime, you will stay away from me until you have learned your place and when we reach Madagascar, I will consider your suggestion.”
“Thank you, Your Highness. I am sorry to have offended you,” Hestia said and though her words were appropriate, her tone was not.
“Be gone from me,” Azara ordered in exasperation.
The moment Hesita had bowed herself out of the room, Oma entered followed by the other women bearing a small tub and pitchers of water. While the servants filled the tub and scented the water, Oma helped Azara disrobe. When she’d finished bathing, Oma and the women smoothed scented oils over her body, brushed out her hair and helped her dress in a fine new garment meant for her position in the Peacock Palace. When they were finished, she knew she looked her finest. Her serving women oohed and ahhed over her.
“The prince will be blinded by your beauty,” Malika, one of the youngest and Azara’s favorite, said, smoothing the silken gown, which was stiff with embedded jewels.
Azara grinned in good humor again. She noted Hestia was not among the women attending her and wondered if she’d been too harsh. Well, she would allow Hestia to return if she behaved properly in the days ahead.
“It is time to go, princess,” Oma said. “The prince waits for you.”
Azara’s heart gave a leap, but she said nothing, simply moved to the door and down the narrow passage to Rajak’s cabin. He was waiting for her, his eyes lighting when he saw her.
“Welcome, Princess Azara,” he said, bowing slightly from the waist.
He held an arm out to indicate a table, which was laden with dishes of exotic food. Obviously, his cook had gone to a great deal of trouble to prepare such fine fare. Azara might have been enticed by the aroma and sight, but her stomach was too knotted with anxiety. She had thought herself able to resist Rajak’s allure, but now that she was in his presence again, she knew she could not. She was, at once, glad and regretful that she’d brought Oma along.
“Won’t you have a seat, Your Highness?” Rajak asked, taking her hand and leading her forward to the low table.
Silk cushions had been scattered along the floor and she gracefully sank down on them, adjusting her legs akimbo as was the custom. Rajak followed suit, taking the cushion next to her. His eyes smoldered whenever he looked at her, but he was thoughtful enough to remember Oma.
“Come,” he invited. “Sit on the other side of your mistress.”
“I cannot,” she muttered, obviously aghast at such a thing.
“I insist,” Rajak said.
“Come, Oma, do as he says,” Azara said. “You sit beside me when we are alone.”
“B-but we are not alone,” Oma stuttered. “He is a great prince.”
Rajak laughed. “I have come up in your honorable estimation, Oma, I am glad. You no longer think me a pirate?”
Oma’s lips pinched together as she warred within herself. “You are a pirate prince, Your Highness,” she finally blurted.
Rajak’s laughter rang out again, mingling with Azara’s chuckles. Oma blushed and grinned
before hiding her face. The dinner proceeded with much laughter and light talk. Rajak spoke of what she must expect at Madagascar. Although he would see to her protection and that of her women, there would be little freedom for them to go unchaperoned about the island. Many unscrupulous men lived there who would not hesitate to seize her and try to ransom her themselves.
“Since you have said you will not seek a ransom for me, would I not be better off to place myself in their hands?” she asked lightly.
Rajak’s smiled died away and his eyes darkened. “You never want to fall into the hands of such men,” he warned. “Many of them would be swayed by your beauty and not bother with a ransom. But the women of such men do not last long. Life on Madagascar is difficult for men and women alike. When such men grew tired of you, they would give you to their men. I know you jest, but you must promise me you won’t try to escape.”
“I can make no such promise,” she said with far more courage than she actually felt. “You have taken me against my will, and I must try to escape or my life is forfeit.”
“Trust me, Azara.” He took hold of her hand.
Oma, who had contented herself with stuffing her belly with as much of the bountiful food as she could, cleared her throat.
Rajak ignored her. “You are safer with me than you will ever be with someone else.”
He rinsed his hands in the small bowl of water and dried them then rose and held out his hand. “Come, it is time.”
“Time for what?” Azara asked, although her heart squeezed within her chest and she was certain she knew what he meant.
Leisurely, she dipped her fingers in the bowl of water and dried her hands then taking hold of his, she rose and stood beside him. His eyes held her captive. She must fight this attraction, she told herself and knew she would fail.
Oma scrambled to her feet, grunting with the exertion. Breaking away, Rajak took the servant’s arm to steady her then led her toward the cabin door. When he opened it and stood back, Oma stared questioningly at him then at her mistress.
“Good night, Oma,” Azara said, and her voice sounded far away as if she were speaking down a long tunnel.
Oma hesitated a moment more then wordlessly left the cabin. Rajak closed the door behind her and turned to Azara, his eyes gleaming with passion.
Azara felt an answering desire rise inside her. Quickly, he crossed the room and took her into his arms. His lips settled on hers, his tongue slashing across her mouth, demanding entrance. She parted her lips and thrust her tongue against his. A ferocious tide rose within her so she answered his lust with her own.
Slowly, seductively, he disrobed her, removing one garment at a time, dropping the silk and gems to the floor as if they meant nothing, only the gaudy wrappings for the real jewel that lay beneath. Her breath was shaky. Her hands trembled as they tugged at the cord of his trousers. When the garment had fallen around his ankles, she reached for the hard, smooth cock that seemed to leap into her hand of its own accord. She stroked him, something she’d not had time or inclination to do the night before. But now she knew what to expect, she knew what she wanted, and she wanted to touch him, to feel the smoothness of the skin covering his penis. She wanted to squeeze his cock, to see if the firmness of it could be diminished in such a way, but it couldn’t.
Her hands explored further while he drew in a sharp breath and kissed her again then smoothed a path down to her breasts where he took one nipple between his teeth and tongue. The sensations made her gasp. Her knees nearly buckled, but she didn’t want to be deterred from her quest to find out more about this man. Her fingers brushed over his balls, weighing them, gently caressing them.
With a groan, he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed, where he lowered her gently and stood staring down at her, his eyes shiny with anticipation.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured.
“But so are you,” she said softly, sliding her hands over his broad smooth chest and down his slim hips to his penis. She was fascinated by the response she got each time she brushed a finger over its tip, or when she wrapped her hand around the long, hard column and pulled and released. His groan was music, guttural, earthy and enflaming to her senses. Something within her moved to his beat. When he lowered his head and traced a hot, moist path down to her pubis, she was the one panting and moaning. He parted her lips and found her clitoris, and she arched her back, wanting him to caress and taste her as he had the night before.
She didn’t have to ask, he gave, his tongue moving against her sensitive nub until she was whimpering with desire. When at last she felt her climax move upon her, she pushed upward, offering herself and all she was.
The culmination was shattering. She felt as if she were being turned inside out. She cried out in ecstasy and strained toward him until the moment passed. He waited patiently then rose above her, preparing to slide his cock into her, but she stopped him, wanting to give him the same ecstasy he’d given her, wanting to give herself the pleasure of tasting him and bringing him to such a completion.
Pushing him back, she lowered her head and took his cock into her mouth, swirling her tongue over his tip, hearing his outcry of pleasure. She explored every inch of his penis. She kissed and suckled until she felt him stiffen and fill her mouth with his semen. When his climax passed, he rolled her over and pushed into her, his cock still firm. He drove a path deep into her channel and unlike the night before, she felt no pain, only an exhilaration that filled her very being. They came together, their bodies moving rhythmically, like two halves of a whole that had united again. And when they drifted down that warm softness of the aftermath, they sighed their satisfaction and slept.
Chapter Six
“There’s St. Mary’s Island and Johanna beyond. Madagascar is not far away,” Rajak pointed out as they stood on the bridge, his arm around Azara.
They’d long since given up any attempt at discretion. Quarters on the ship were too tight to keep secret that the beautiful Persian princess was the courtesan of the Indian prince pirate. A few feet away, Oma leaned over the rail, ostensibly as chaperone, her eyes lively, her cheeks flushed as she watched the sun-sparkled waves.
The other serving women ranged out along the rail as well, their voices high pitched with excitement. Like Azara, they’d donned hooded cloaks of a dull gray to camouflage their bodies beneath their light silken gowns. Heavy veils draped over their heads and were pulled across their faces, so only their eyes peered out.
“I shall be sorry to reach the end of our journey,” Azara said and won a smile from Rajak.
He hugged her tighter. “You will like my island home,” he said.
“I like your ship,” she answered, meeting his gaze.
His fingers grazed her cheek in a soft caress. After a moment, she turned back to the sea and the dark mound rising in the distance.
“Madagascar.” Rajak affirmed her unspoken question. “Your life will not always be spent here. One day soon, if Allah decrees, I’ll have my throne back and our home will be in India.”
“I’ll be happy here, if you are here,” Azara said, but she thought of the plans she and Hestia had made, plans to escape on one of the other pirate ships that would claim a prize for returning her to her father. Did she really want to go, she asked herself and knew the answer was not as it should be. Even Oma seemed infected by this new life they lived with a pirate.
Two weeks had past since she’d been captured, but it seemed like two lifetimes. The nights had been filled with ecstasy such as she’d never dreamed. She and Rajak had practiced every Kama Sutra position Hasna had ever taught and some she had not. Rajak, she discovered, was an experienced lover. Part of her was jealous that he’d known other women in such intimate ways, while part of her was glad for his prowess.
She put her thoughts aside as the ship arrived in Port Dauphin. She’d never seen such exuberant joy at the arrival of a ship, though there were many such vessels in the harbor. The wharf and areas in front of the warehouses we
re piled high with barrels and chests of goods. People lounged about, chatting. Sailors called ribald greetings. Women, dressed in the latest fashions from all countries, strolled along the shore, their bodies swaying provocatively. The women were of all colors, some black, some white and some half-caste. All were beautiful and as they moved seductively along their route, which would take them into direct contact with the sailors leaving Rajak’s ship, other men came to engage them in earnest conversations. Sometimes, money exchanged hands and the chosen woman strolled away on the arm of her eager client.
The men were dressed in an assortment of styles, some in rich traditional Asian garments, some in formal European coat-tails as if about to attend a ball. Other men were simply dressed in pants and britches with hats of various kinds on their heads.
“I see our carriage has arrived,” Rajak said. “We can disembark now.”
Startled that the boat had already been secured to the wharf and sailors were unloading the rich goods, Azara followed behind him. Oma clucked at the other women, and they all fell into a line behind. When they reached the wharf, Azara was surprised to see that sudans—curtained platforms supported on horizontal poles—had already been arranged. Quickly, Azara and the other women were ushered into the traveling chairs and were carried at a rapid speed down the long wharf. Dismayed, Azara stuck her head out of the curtains and looked around. It seemed she was not even allowed to walk.
“Rajak!” a woman called.
Azara glanced at Rajak, who’s face was stern. He made no acknowledgement that anyone had hailed him but stiffly ordered the men to carry her to two closed coaches. Azara craned to see who had hailed him. She soon made out a woman dressed in a flamboyant European fashion, holding a colorful umbrella and wearing a large hat with many feathers. Even as Azara caught a glimpse of her, she stood up in the open carriage and once again called out to him in a clear, high voice.
“Rajak! You are back, my lover! I have waited so long for you. I have missed my brave pirate prince.”
The Pirate Prince (Pirate's Booty Series, Book Five) Page 5
